


Anchor'd Safe and Sound

by ami_ven



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Community: writerverse, Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2645315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welton Academy’s newest teacher begins his first class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor'd Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" challenge (write about school)

Todd Anderson opened the door to his new classroom, watching the boys take their seats. He had seen each of them at the welcoming ceremony, but they hadn’t seemed quite like a _class_ , then, and he took a deep breath.

Speaking in public was still terrifying. It would probably always be terrifying, but Todd refused to let that stop him. Since he had been the same age that these boys were now, he had wanted to become a teacher, and nothing else. His parents had been furious, of course— but for once, he ignored them, walking his own way, just like Mr. Keating had always encouraged them to do.

He had come to life in this classroom and there was a certain poetry to that, that it was Neil’s death that made Todd wake up and begin to live.

Todd took another deep breath, and pushed open the door. There was a clatter of chairs as the boys straightened up, but he pretended not to notice, and stopped in front of the teacher’s desk. “I’m Mr. Anderson,” he said, knees shaking a little, but not his voice. “Gentlemen, please take out your textbooks, and open them to the introduction.”

He wasn’t quite as brave as Mr. Keating had been, but the moment Todd had seen those familiar textbooks, he’d made a plan.

“Now, gentlemen, _skip_ that revolting, despicable introduction, and instead turn to page three-fourteen.”

The boys looked sideways at each other, over the rustle of pages.

“Ah, Mr….” Todd pointed to a boy in the third row— he was shorter and darker-haired, but there was something in his eyes that reminded him of Charlie Dalton.

“Cortez, sir.”

“Mr. Cortez, read the poem, from the beginning.”

The boy sat up straighter. “’O Captain! My Captain!’ by Walt Whitman.”

Todd smiled. “That’s the one. Keep going.”

THE END


End file.
